


Mutually Attractive Devotion

by StarlightOnInk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crossover, Hetalia, Language, M/M, Pottertalia, RusAme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/StarlightOnInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred Jones was never one for choosing his words. Sometimes it loses him house points, other times it leads to accidentally hitting on the Durmstrang Triwizard hopeful, Ivan Braginsky. A RusAme Pottertalia oneshot. Rated T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutually Attractive Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the fanart by cidershark on tumblr where Hogwarts!Alfred inadvertently flirts with Durmstrang hottie Ivan, which can be found here http:// cidershark . tumblr . com /post/99953125536 /american – transfer – student – alfred - f – jones
> 
> It’s beautiful. The rating for this fic is T for Alfred’s foul mouth- if you feel I should bump it up, please let me know! Without further ado, enjoy! More notes at the bottom.

Mutually Attractive Devotion

“This is proving quite pointless…”

“Shut up. We’re not leaving until you have this mastered.”

“That remains to be seen. Earlier you called this light little dusting a blizzard. I will be fine in this weather. You, I am not so sure of.”

“Don’t contradict me. You’re supposed to be having happy thoughts. Now be happy.”

Alfred’s makeshift pupil sighed warily as a thin trail of white vapor fell sadly from his wand, dissipating in the chilly night air so much like each puff of air they both took. The height difference made it feel quite strange indeed to be “teaching” the Durmstrang student; Ivan stood almost a whole head taller than Alfred. He literally had to look up to him. Nevertheless, Alfred was a Gryffindor, a member of a house of leaders! He was going to assist his friend and fulfil his heroic quota.

“Something about your voice does not inspire happiness,” Ivan mused with a roll of his eyes. “Or your laugh. Or-“

“There’s that mocking again. Unless this is what it takes for you to conjure a Patronus, you should try a new approach.”

His words were met with a wet thwack! and a face full of snow.

“Hey” he yelled, wiping the cold fluff from his face, his cheeks already beginning to sting. “What was that?” He glared over at his student whose wand- birch, dragon heartstring, thirteen inches- was raised, a sly smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“You said different approach. This makes me happy.” With that, he turned and gave a cry of “Expecto Patronum!”

Internally savoring the way Ivan rolled his R’s, Alfred let his anger subside as he crossed his fingers, hoping this time might be a success-

Nothing.

Well, to be fair, it seemed more…substantial than the last dozen attempts. It wasn’t enough for Ivan, who scowled heavily, large nose crinkling in irritation. “Chyort vazmi,” he muttered bitterly, his boots crunching through the snow as he stomped off. Alfred followed behind; really, there wasn’t very far to go. They had chosen North Tower to hold their lessons at, which offered both privacy and a lovely view of the night sky, currently dotted with lovely sparkling jewels so very much like snowflakes.

“Look,” Alfred tried gently, staring at Ivan’s hunched form bundled by the thick furs customary of Durmstrang students. “You just need to focus on something nice. Are you thinking of, like, a favorite memory or something?”

A noncommittal grunt came in reply, along with a halfhearted shrug of the shoulder. “Nothing can really come to mind,” Ivan admitted evenly. “I have been rather homesick, but any time I think of it I just miss it, so that is not working.” He let his gaze be dragged up to the heavenly ceiling above, the stars twinkling reassuringly down at them. “Although,” he mused, more to himself than to Alfred, “they look just as they do back home.”

Alfred remained silent- a rarity- taking in the scene. This moment of contemplative silence was so different from their encounters in the past. What had been blundering mishaps then he now wanted to turn into careful consideration, making each moment count. He didn’t want to mess anything up. When they fell into their lighthearted bantering it was easy- so easy- but this…this felt strange. Yet, also necessary.

Yes, this was certainly quite different from before…

0o0o0

Alfred had been proud beyond words that he had been sorted into Gryffindor. All throughout the train ride, he had asked everyone and anyone about each House, who else had been in it, and what traits were valued. Bravery? That was the mark of a hero, one who would face all perils to vanquish darkness and help those in need. It was a simple dream, but Alfred knew whatever career he chose would need to fulfil that desire.

Of course, it is natural to be carried away by such dreams, so when he was sorted into Gryffindor house, Alfred may have been…a tad overzealous. Indeed, his first act as a Gryffindor was to give a boisterous whoop of “Fuck yeah!!!” which earned him a harsh “Mister Jones!” from Professor McGonagall.

He had not anticipated being at school for the Triwizard Tournament, but certainly was not about to complain. Being Pureblood, his parents were well read in many obscure traditions of the Wizarding World, and made sure their son was as well. The Triwizard Tournament had been brought up one humid afternoon over a savory apple pie hot from the oven. Alfred remembered staring starry-eyed as his father recounted even the smallest and vaguest of tidbits he knew about the competition; already, he found himself yearning for that honor, that excitement.

This year, his seventh and final year, surely he would be able to make that a reality!

It seemed he was destined to, anyway, with Hogwarts being selected as the host, and he, Alfred, transferring to that school so he had the chance to learn under the esteemed prodigy Albus Dumbledore. The pieces were all falling into place.

As he watched with his fellow classmates on that chilly October evening for the delegations to arrive, Alfred had let his mind wander, imagining what his opponents would be like. As the delegation from Beauxbatons arrived, he took in their silks, their regal air, their disconcerted expressions as they eyed Hogwarts. Some seemed politely curious, while others eyed the school as if it were a spot of mud that had ruined their shoes. Indeed, a gorgeous young woman with flowing, silvery hair seemed downright miserable with their new living conditions; a few students to her left was a young man with wavy blond hair who was looking at Hogwarts with something akin to amusement. Indeed, he could be heard muttering through a thick French accent, “Cute, I suppose. Well, it will have to do, anyway.”

Beside him, Alfred heard his friend Arthur scowl none too quietly. “Get over yourself,” Arthur hissed, emerald eyes glaring daggers at the Frenchman. Alfred bit his lip, partially hoping the student had not heard. His wish was futile, however, as the Beauxbatons student- he would later find out his name was Francis- turned in their direction and gave a flirtatious wink. Alfred merely chuckled as Arthur sputtered and swore beside him. Why isn’t Professor McGonagall ever here to hear Arthur swear? It isn’t always just me!

His musings lasted only so long, however, as several shouts pierced the evening air and heads turned toward the lake, all eyes transfixed as a ship rose from the rippling inky surface. The students of Durmstrang were clad in thick furs, though a handful felt the October air and shed a layer or two. Several hushed whispers floated through the crowd as people began to recognize renowned Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum. His gait was rather unusual, though it was hard to tell with the Durmstrang headmaster trailing so close beside him, asking insistently how he was feeling. Amidst the mass of fur-clad students, Alfred spotted a head of ash blond hair, its owner standing a head taller than most of his peers. Alfred squinted; the light from the moon reflected on pale skin and revealed a look of mingled interest and trepidation- and something else Alfred could not quite place. Two students beside him were talking- well, one, the student with chin-length blond hair, was chatting animatedly to his brunette neighbor in some language Alfred could not understand. None of them seemed nearly as bothered by the crisp weather as the Hogwarts students- certainly not as much as the students from Beauxbatons. Just before entering the castle, the one- Francis- had made a big show of looking relieved to escape the cold. This tall student with the beige hair did not remove his furs, but he did not huddle into them as many Hogwarts students now were with their cloaks. Alfred himself found it to be a nice reprieve when they were finally able to reenter the castle with their guests.

That had been a fairly tame encounter.

The next day it became quite evident that the guests from abroad would be hard to avoid, even if some chose to stay on the ship or carriage. Meeting students from Beauxbatons was just as much a phenomenon for the Durmstrang students as it was for those of Hogwarts; likewise, this was perhaps the only chance many from Beauxbatons would have to meet their Durmstrang and Hogwarts counterparts. The school became a mix of jet-black Hogwarts robes mixed with the fine elegant silks of Beauxbatons and thick rich furs of Durmstrang. Arthur became even moodier than usual. In the Great Hall during breakfast, curious students from abroad were chatting amiably to each other, sharing their excitement for the coming tournament. The ashen haired young man Alfred saw last night was sat amongst his blond and brunette Durmstrang companions; Alfred faintly heard the brunette at one point call the blond Feliks. Before Feliks could answer, however, Francis bounded up with a wave of the hand.

“Ah, enjoying the change of scenery?” he asked. “It is not the fine Palace of Beauxbatons, but its insufficiencies make it…cute. Almost like staying here is part of the challenge of the tournament!” He grinned, revealing flawless white teeth.

A low grumble of annoyance could be heard from Arthur. “Yes, it must be a challenge being away from your precious snail cuisine,” he said more than loud enough for Francis to hear. Neither teen showed any sign of feeling abashed; indeed, Francis seemed only more gleeful to get a rise out of Arthur.

A heated (one-sided) argument ensued. Feliks and his brunette companion- Alfred soon learned named Toris- watched in mild entertainment. From beside him, Alfred felt someone approach.

“It is exciting, no? So many different people in one place,” a rumbling voice said cheerily.

Alfred turned. Sure enough, it was the ashen blond from before. Violet eyes sparkled in the morning light, and if ever Alfred saw a candidate for the role of Champion, it was this man.

There was a beat of silence while Alfred collected himself. “Wha- ah, yeah, it is!” he finally replied, grinning.

The Durmstrang student held out his hand. “Ivan Nikolaevich Braginsky,” he introduced.

They shook hands, Alfred returning Ivan’s smile with his own winning grin. “Alfred Foster Jones.”

“Preeyatna paznakomitsa.”

Alfred blinked owlishly up at him. “Uh.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh.” Alfred huffed, folding his arms as he turned back to the argument, watching Ivan from the corner of his eye. The brief instance he had of seeing him last night did not do justice to how handsome he looked. His full face lacked all blemishes, his eyes were a unique shade of violet, his full nose crinkled when he smiled. Sure, Arthur was busy burning bridges with the foreigners, but maybe some more good could come out of this whole competition for Alfred. It would be worth a shot. He smiled evenly, wondering if Ivan might cheer for him when he was chosen as Hogwarts Champion.

“So, you from Bulgaria too?” Had to start somewhere with befriending the hot Durmstrang student. That Seeker, Viktor Krum, played for Bulgaria and went to Durmstrang. Alfred assumed maybe it was based there.

Ivan’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “No, I am from Russia.”

“Aaw, like Anastasia.”

“What?”

“What?” he replied quickly, hoping that little word vomit could be forgotten. Though he was Pureblood, most of the rest of his family were either Muggles or Muggle-born. He was kept very much up to date on all cinematic productions from America.

“You are a strange one,” Ivan said, an eyebrow quirked in perplexed amusement. Alfred felt his cheeks heat up. Dammit, why couldn’t they just be immediate friends? What was all this establishing a relationship busy work? Just like me already! I’m going to be the hero of Hogwarts! he pleaded silently.

Ivan chuckled deeply at his reaction, apparently savoring his flustered expression. “But you are funny. Since we are friends now, I hope you might support me with the tournament!”

Wait, what? They were friends? Oh…what? And what was that last bit he had said? Alfred’s eyebrows rose closer to his honey blond locks. “Glad to be friends with you, buddy, but Hogwarts will be taking this victory, with me as their Champion. Besides, Durmstrang’s got Krum as a candidate. He’ll be the easy choice.”

That apparently was not the thing to say to worm his way further into Ivan’s good graces. The Durmstrang student tugged his rich furs farther up onto his shoulders as he drew himself up to his full considerable height. “It does not matter; he could be Minister of Magic, but I am the one who shall be selected. I have to be,” he added softly, more to himself than to Alfred. “It is all about attitude, and I am more than willing to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Pft, man, you’re going up against an icon. Don’t you think it’d be better for you to just let Krum have all that weight on his shoulders? I mean, it’d be less stressful. You can support your Hogwarts buddy instead!”

Ivan laughed in amusement. “Now that is cute,” he said with poisonous sweetness, his eyes dancing with amusement. “And why would I cheer for you? For your remarkable people skills? Would I cheer as your lover from a faraway school?”

Alfred willed the burning heat from his cheeks. How did he…? Shit. “Hah! Don’t flatter yourself! Our different forms of hotness aren’t compatible.”

There was a beat of silence. Alfred only just now realized that the crowd around them had quieted somewhat to listen in. Arthur was switching between peering at Alfred and hurling snappish remarks at Francis, who was now preaching how the splendor of the Palace of Beauxbatons was enough to win the tournament on its own.

At this point, Ivan could now see a remarkable resemblance between Alfred’s face and the beets that went into his favorite soup. The sight in front of them, though, was startlingly more delectable. The Hogwarts student simply became flustered so easily- and mostly by his own doing! He smiled toothily. “Ah, malenkaya will be so excited to cheer on his Durmstrang Champion,” he mused silkily.

Well, that certainly had an effect.

With all the excessive vocal projection of a Howler, Alfred bellowed:

“LOOK, YOU ATTRACTIVE BASTARD!”

Much like a Howler, the immediate reaction was silence. Filling the entire Great Hall. And the dungeons. And North Tower. The inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest probably grew still to take in what he had just said…

“Uh, fuck, I mean…”

“MISTER JONES!” McGonagall snapped from somewhere to his right.

“Professor, please!” Alfred moaned, a thick tone of despair beginning to weigh within his words. He turned his attention back to Ivan, trying to ignore the snickering now coming from all sides. He cleared his throat, jabbing the Finger of Authority at Ivan’s chest, stepping forward to meet his opponent. “Look, pal, you may look like a Champion, all tall and muscular and hot with pretty eyes-”

“Alfred, you’re not making the point you think you are…” Arthur muttered.

A dusting of pink bloomed across his cheeks. He plowed on. “But!” At this, the Finger of Authority was brandished to the sky. “It’s obvious I will be Champion! And whether you’re left sitting on the sidelines, or actually competing, you’ll still just be watching me win. We clear?”

“Your confidence is cute but lacking any substance,” Ivan said, a cool smile evident on his face since Alfred made his first outburst. He took a step of his own. “It would be a mistake for the cup to choose you; you would not be Hogwarts’s best chance. If you were chosen, I would at least know I have nothing to worry about from this school.”

“We’ll see during the Tournament! When I win that prize money and spend it all in front of you! I feel sorry for Durmstrang having you for their Champion!” Another step.

“I will enjoy beating you. Even if Beauxbatons wins, I will still at least best you.” Yet another step. Chest-to-chest.

“You’re going to be in dead-fucking-last, Braginsky,”

“MISTER JONES!”

“You two are talking like you’ve already been selected…” Another mumble from Arthur, whose logic went ignored.

“I bet you can’t even conjure a Patronus,”

“I bet you have never had to duel in your life,” Ivan spat back, his accent thickening in his irritation.

“Why don’t you go stick that handsome face of your sin the lake and fucking count to a million?”

“That is it, Mister Jones! Five points from Gryffindor for your profane language!” McGonagall snapped, nostrils flaring dangerously. Alfred turned away, cheeks flaming.

The hour for the Goblet of Fire’s decision came. And neither of them- or Francis- were chosen. Boy, did they look foolish.

The Goblet fiasco left a school full of foreign students bewildered and gossiping, and two seventeen-year-olds with overinflated thick skulls sulking. Alfred was in a particularly dark mood now; neither he nor Ivan had been chosen. Hell, Hogwarts ended up with two Champions, and he was still neither of them. So, what was the point of that whole argument before? They had fought and readied themselves to be opponents, established animosity, only for it to be for nothing. Had they known just how useless it all would be, they could have just kept things friendly. Maybe Alfred wouldn’t be walking by himself through the halls, mind too muddled with disappointment from too many things. His feet were moving of their own accord.

Alfred felt a tap on his shoulder.

His fingers instinctively wrapped around the wand in his pocket- oak, unicorn hair core, twelve inches. He turned, and felt a mixture of shock, frustration, and the tiniest bit of hope churn through his stomach as he met eyes with Ivan.

“Oh, h-”

“What was that you mentioned before?” Ivan cut across him. “A…P-Patronus?” he asked, testing the word on his tongue.

“Uuh,” Alfred replied smartly, completely thrown. He had been expecting a fight, or at least a biting remark; for that reason, he had some of his own lined up for use. But what was this all of a sudden? “Uuh, yeah, a Patronus.”

Ivan’s brow knit. “I have never heard of such a thing,” he said.

Alfred left shakily, a sheepish smile hesitantly growing. “Aah, well, heh, it’s not really normal to our curriculum.” He ran a hand through his golden locks. “I mean, maybe we were supposed to learn it, but…our Defense Against the Dark Arts professors…don’t stay long enough.” He grinned more fully, finding it just as easy to share a polite conversation as it was to compete and brag with Ivan.

Ivan hummed thoughtfully. “If it is something you would learn in Defense, then we probably will not ever hear about it at Durmstrang,” he muttered with a hint of bitterness. “That school is more about learning Dark Arts.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Alfred replied, something about Ivan’s statement bothering him. “But don’t you mean your school, not that school?”

Ivan blinked, processing his words. “Ah,” he said at last. “Well, it is not where I wanted to be. But what is this Patronus?” he asked quickly, hoping to derail Alfred’s question.

“It’s a…shield, kind of,” Alfred said slowly, not missing the diversion. “Against Dementors.”

At that, Ivan’s eyes widened. “Really? Such a thing exists?”

Alfred nodded. “Yeah, sorta. I mean, I don’t know if you can, like, kill a Dementor, but it’ll pro  
tect you from them.”  
“And you can do this spell?” Ivan asked, pale eyebrows raised. Alfred shook himself, finding his gaze a little too lost in drinking in all of his changing expressions.

“Y-yeah,” he replied lamely.

Ivan chewed his bottom lip, looking thoughtful. “Would you…teach me?”

At this, Alfred was left speechless. “W-what?” I mean…no, that’s actually what I mean. What?”

Ivan’s smile turned sheepish and a little sad. “Neither of us will be beating the other in the tournament, so why not still be a part of something interesting?” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “I believe it is safe to say both of us will grow bored not participating in the competition, no?”

Alfred could not hold back a bark of laughter. “Probably right with that, man. I’m going to hate having to just watch.”

“Indeed,” Ivan hummed, his smile turning more joyful. “And what a missed opportunity to compete against you.”

They exchanged a few remarks, all far more playful and less biting than before. Alfred noticed a slight shift in Ivan’s whole attitude. He seemed far more relaxed now that the Champions had been announced, less like he was forcing himself to be noticed.

Alfred grinned up at the taller student. “So, you want Patronus lessons, huh? Well, you asked the right guy.”

“If it is not in your curriculum, why do you know it?” Ivan asked with genuine interest.

“Heh, Hogwarts is a great place for secrets in that they’re bound to be spread,” Alfred explained. He further elaborated that when a tiny whisper that The Boy Who Lived had received private instruction on how to fend of Dementors, Alfred was unable to get the notion out of his mind. It was something someone else had tried and succeeded at that he himself had not? Now, that couldn’t be allowed to just be left alone. Any time there was a lull in classwork or exams, Alfred was in the library finding all sorts of books on the subject and practicing anywhere he could. He had never conjured one in the presence of a Dementor- and hopefully never would have to- but the magic itself required a great deal of power. The past summer, being of the age to do magic outside of school, Alfred had conjured one for his parents, causing both to beam with pride and glow with astonishment. It was one of the proudest moments of his life since being sorted into Gryffindor.

Ivan’s violet pools had grown wide as they shimmered with interest. “That is quite a feat. It does surprise me now, how you did not be named Champion.”

Alfred grimaced, some of his inner glow dulled by the reminder. “Yeah, well, God knows you were more than ready to face whatever the hell they’re going to throw at them. Who knows how that fucking cup thinks.” He winced, expecting a sharp reprimand for McGonagall, and was almost surprised when one did not come, despite the corridor being completely deserted aside from himself and Ivan.

Ivan looked around in confusion, mimicking Alfred’s action. When he saw no immediate reason to be searching the hall, he turned his attention back to the American transfer. “Thank you,” he muttered softly, but no less genuinely. “I had hoped it might make a difference,” he admitted.

“Yeah, guess not,” Alfred said, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his robes. “But, hey, like you said, we’ll just find a way to entertain ourselves while everyone else is breaking their necks.” He felt his mood improve slightly as he remembered their latest agreement. “So, Patronus lessons it is!”

0o0o0

That was what got them where they were this chilly evening on the brink of winter. This was their second night of lessons, which yielded slightly better results than the first evening. There were points when the silvery form floating from Ivan’s wand seemed to have some substance to it; they could just make out the outline of something large and lumbering before it broke sadly apart. Both this evening and last evening had consisted of friendly bantering and goodhearted teasing, though something about Ivan’s mood maintained a steady block. Alfred furrowed his brow, wondering if another demonstration would make any difference. It would run the risk of frustrating Ivan, who like Alfred greatly disliked the idea of not being able to do something someone else could. With how perturbed he was now, though, it was unlikely they would make any progress anyway.

“Want to just turn in for the night? You’re getting better each day; you’ll definitely have it soon.”

Ivan let out a sigh and, with great reluctance, nodded. “I suppose,” he muttered.

They walked through the cold grounds together towards the Durmstrang ship, Alfred shivering more and more with every step. Ivan peered over at him with those ridiculous pretty violet eyes of his, the moonlight catching them in all the right ways. He smirked at his shivering companion as he took off his abundant coat and draped it over Alfred’s shoulders. Alfred felt himself heat up, not even so much from the coat, but just from the very action. He allowed a smile to tug at his lips.

“Thanks,” he said, the chattering of his teeth lessening as he snuggled further into the Durmstrang’s fur coat.

Ivan hummed in reply, still not affected by the weather. Weird. But wait, didn’t he say he was from Russia? Wasn’t it a blizzard there 24/7? This was probably nothing to him then. Wait…

Alfred could almost hear the gears whirring as his mind worked in overtime. He also said he was homesick, no? And…something about not supposed to be attending Durmstrang? Whatever the case was, he obviously had some reasons to be upset.

“Hey,” Alfred called as they drew closer to the ship. “I know a way we can help your block.”

“Watching you swim in the lake?” Ivan suggested innocently.

“Hah, no. It’s cold.”

“By your standards.”

“Anyway!” The Finger of Authority made a reappearance. It was brief, though, as Alfred quickly shoved it back under the coat’s protection. “You’re obviously miffed about stuff. So, we’ll just give you an awesome day to think about when you need a happy thought. There’s a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow; we’re going together.” He realized how that last bit sounded, but decided to leave it alone. Ivan certainly didn’t comment on it.

“Miffed? I do not know this word…”

Alfred scowled, rolling his eyes, stopping just in front of the thick plank connecting the Durmstrang ship to the lake shore. “You get the context enough. You can vent about your problems to Dr. Jones- that’s me- and have a fucking awesome kickass day to make you happy.” Still no McGonagall to yell at him. Wait… “You know what a doctor is, right?” he asked to be sure. He had no idea if Ivan was Pureblood, and many had little idea what things outside the Wizarding World were.

“Da, my otets had to see one when he pulled a muscle practicing for arctic swimming club.”

“Of course he did…” Alfred said slowly, questioning more than half of that last statement. “Anyway, tomorrow, you, me, Hogsmeade. Prepare to have a blast.”

Ivan chuckled, smiling with a newfound warmth down at Alfred. “I look forward to it. Thank you.” A pause. “For helping with this so much.” He glanced once more at Alfred, looking as if he wanted to say more. But with a final reluctant wave, Ivan headed back on deck. Alfred waved back, feeling remarkably and inexplicably content all of a sudden. It was not until he was back in his dormitory that he realized he was still wearing the Durmstrang coat. He tried and failed to ignore Arthur’s knowing smirk.

0o0o0

“So, what did you mean the other day about not supposed to be attending Durmstrang?” Alfred asked over breakfast. Ivan had taken to eating at the Gryffindor table; many students from the other schools were mingling within Hogwarts, and no one seemed to mind.

“Hmm?” Ivan began, trying to focus only on the crepes on his plate, determined to not meet Alfred’s gaze. He could feel those sapphire pools boring into his head, though, and with breakfast almost over and their trip about to begin he knew eventually he would have to share. With a sigh, he conceded. “My sisters and I were supposed to attend a school back in Russia. Closer to home, not as well-known as Durmstrang, but nice. Familiar,” he added, his voice growing a bit louder as he grew more comfortable speaking.

“No way! There’s one there too?” Alfred said excitedly. He himself was a transfer from a wizarding school in America in New England.

“Da, konechna.” Ivan replied, nose upturned, as if it should have been obvious. “The School of Kitezh,” he added in a breath of admiration. Alfred’s confused expression was met with another scoff. “Where else would a school for magic be in Russia?”

“Uuh…” Alfred replied wisely. “Uuh…the capital?” he tried with little hope of being correct.

Ivan merely hummed in mild indignation, finishing his crepes as Alfred himself shoved a piece of toast into his mouth whole. The two rose from their seats, setting out for Hogsmeade Village. “Never mind, durak. My sisters should have gone to Kitezh, but my otets thought it was not good enough.”

“Seriously?” Alfred asked in surprise. “And wait, what’s an ahtet?”

“Father,” Ivan explained, their shoes crunching the grass and gravel. “You see, my sisters and I are half-blood, and he is worried somehow every place we look for a career will know this and not think we are good enough, and attending a local school like Kitezh will not mean anything. But, surely, Durmstrang will be respectable enough to offset our blood.” His words took on a hint of bitterness. Around them, students from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons alike were heading for the village as well, all chattering excitedly, or remaining silent as they huddled against the cool breeze biting at their exposed faces.

“What the hell?” Alfred spat before he could consider his words. “That’s pretty rich of him, considering he chose to marry a Muggle. What, she not good enou-”

“You misunderstand,” Ivan said with a wry smile. “He is the Muggle.”

That threw Alfred for a loop. “Wait, what?” he asked, completely lost.

Ivan chuckled softly at that. “He worried he will hold us back. He was very excited when he learned my sisters and I take after our mat. He is a bit like an excited child; he hears of magic and feels we have so much more available to us. Like any Muggle parent for their Muggle child, he wants us to be as successful as possible. He worries that people will judge us for our mixed blood and we will be looked down on. So we must compensate by going to the best institution. So he says.”

“Oh…” Wow. “Well, I guess then he has your best intentions. Durmstrang is more known than this Kitish-”

“Kitezh-”

“Right, yeah, that. And, well…yeah, people can be jerks about lineage. Look at the Slytherins.”

Ivan grimaced. “I heard a bit of that the other night, when we first came here.” Ah, that was right. The Durmstrangs hat sat with the Slytherins that first evening. That must have been uncomfortable. “Durmstrang also has a bit of a dark reputation. I do not want people to think of that when they hear where I attended school.”

“I hear you,” Alfred agreed as they entered the village.

“But my uncle encourages it. Since my cousin has been set to attend since he was little, he kept otets informed.”

“You have a cousin who goes to Durmstrang?” Alfred asked, surprised.

Ivan nodded. “There,” he said, jerking his head to somewhere to Alfred’s right. Alfred turned and saw Feliks dragging a frazzled-looking Toris to every shop he set his eyes on. As they slipped into a nearby store, they heard Feliks proclaim “They should have held the tournament in Warsaw!”

“Huh,” Alfred murmured to himself. Beside him, though, Ivan’s attention had been caught. 

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to a nearby shop window. Ah, Honeydukes.

Alfred grinned. “Let me show you!” he whooped, grabbing Ivan’s still-pointing hand and dragging him to the shop. Ivan gave a quick gasp of surprise, then fell into comfortable- quick- step with Alfred. The shop door opened with a sweet tinkle, and from there Alfred waved his hand slowly and proudly at the store’s contents. Sweets of all different kinds surrounded them. From the impersonation of lavender dinner plates Ivan’s eyes were now undertaking, Alfred felt it was safe to assume he had never been anywhere quite like here. Asking as much confirmed his suspicions, and he wasted no time in showing Ivan every single bit of Honeydukes’s inventory. Comparing Ivan to a kid in a candy store would work a little too well; for once, there were no barbed comments shared between the two as he allowed himself to be led through the store, even pausing to ask about items himself. Alfred was only too happy to inform. The storekeeper, indeed, was listening carefully and wondering if perhaps he could fit another employee salary into the budget and hire Alfred right there. Alfred, though, was too focused on telling Ivan about anything and everything to notice the business opportunity brewing nearby. He felt a twinge of excitement and pride anytime Ivan was the one to ask about store contents or simply listen in enthused attention.

Ivan’s money bag was quite lighter when they exited the shop (as was his heart), but the weight was replaced by what had to be a sample of everything. Alfred had insisted on nothing less, and even pulled out his own wallet to help cover the cost, but Ivan had immediately refused, saying “I already owe you. No more.” Alfred was left with a blush to battle and a grin tugging at his cheeks as Ivan looked around for their next destination. His violet eyes fell on Dervish and Banges. “That looks useful,” he said quietly. Alfred nodded in agreement.

“Definitely. Any odds and ends you need you can get there. The spello-tape is a lifesaver.”

They headed inside to buy just that- along with a few other odds and ends. Ivan found a handsome leather day planner while Alfred picked up a pamphlet with profiles on all the international Quidditch teams. And more spello-tape.

“Hey, you need to check out Zonko’s,” Alfred said, grinning, and Ivan was more prepared this time to be dragged like a ragdoll to the store in question.

This one too was quite the hit. Once again, at least one of almost everything was purchased, from the dungbombs to the sugar quills and nose-biting teacups. What they would use that last one for, neither was quite sure. Laughing heartily over their newly purchased goods, both students made their way to The Three Broomsticks. There, they found a quiet table beside the window to enjoy a few slow drinks of butterbeer. Alfred told Ivan a bit about himself, how he had only completed one year of wizarding school in America before his family had to move to Britain because his father had been employed by the Ministry, how he and his family still made trips during the summer to visit their family and friends in America, how he wanted to become an Auror and fight dark wizards just like his grandfather. Ivan listened in rapt attention, watching the subtle shifts in expression as the American discussed his personal life, how his eyes seemed to glisten like waves in the ocean when he grew passionate about a topic. Ivan found himself smiling warmly before long, even when Alfred began asking him about himself. They exchanged joking comments about how hilariously awkward it could be when Muggles interacted with the Wizarding World and likewise when wizards tried to engage in Muggle activities. Ivan confessed that during the summer, when his father had heard about the tournament from Ivan’s uncle, since no one knew how a Champion would be selected he had instructed Ivan to always maintain the attitude of a winner.

Let them know that you are there to be victorious. They will see that and know you will do nothing less than win.

Really, it was only consistent with his father’s desire to make sure his children achieved nothing short of greatness. But there had also been that spark of pride in his eyes, that belief that surely no one else besides his child would be selected.

Alfred had a quick counter at the ready to keep Ivan’s mood up. “Well, he’s going to be impressed when you’re the only one out of the entire student body at Durmstrang who can produce a Patronus!” He said it with such conviction, Ivan had to laugh.

“Thank you, Alfred, but we are not there yet.”

“There you go contradicting me again,” Alfred said with deliberate excessive fondness, a sort of oh, you expression playing across his features.

They continued to talk and joke and share experiences from their different backgrounds for at least an hour after that, both enjoying the warmth of The Three Broomsticks…and the company.

Madame Rosmerta chose then to pop up at their table and say heartily, “I hope to see you two here again on Valentines’ Day. We really deck the place out and make it romantic.”

Alfred turned pure crimson to match his house, while even Ivan’s cheeks developed a faint dusting. He recovered faster than Alfred, though, and said with a smooth wave of the hand, “Be sure to save us this table.”

Alfred was torn between wanting to faint and wanting to scarf down all of their recently purchased fizzing whizbees so he could soar high above the village and whoop in excitement for all to hear. Right now, though, the former seemed more imminent. Especially when Ivan turned that handsome violet gaze in his direction, all confident smile and attractive features.

“Y…yeah,” Alfred muttered, feeling feverish. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

0o0o0

Somehow the awkwardness of the atmosphere had dissipated, and they left The Three Broomsticks feeling warm and content. From there, they continued window shopping. Alfred’s eyes turned to saucers as he spotted a window display for Gladrags Wizardwear. In the window hung a set of handsome sky blue dress robes with gold trim and thread etching an elegant pattern across the fabric. When the light caught it, certain spots sparkled like stars tastefully spread over the blue landscape. It reminded him of the flag of his homeland, and of the night sky, despite its brightness. How proud he would have been to wear robes with so much symbolic meaning to him, even if no one else quite understood. He felt a pang as he remembered how weird it had felt, the idea of not living in America anymore. He still hung flags in his room- his parents even agreed to hang them outside on the patio. Still, it wasn’t the real thing.

Beside him, Ivan asked, “Is there anywhere else we should go?”

Alfred hummed, dragged from his musings as he gazed around. His eyes fell briefly on Madame Puddifoot’s. No, definitely not. The incident at The Three Broomsticks had been enough for one day. “Hmmm, I think we hit everything worth checking out. The Hog’s Head is pretty gross, you wouldn’t like that. You should come to Diagon Alley- that has a ton of stuff too. Of course, so does here. But anyway, ah, let’s see, there’s the sweet shop, the joke shop, plus we’ve spent a lot already. We could check out the Shr- actually, no, never mind, let’s not. Ignore that last bit. Completely and utterly. We’ve done everything. There’s nothing else. Especially not a haunted house that has vindictive ghosts living in it. Nope, no idea what you’re t- mph!” He was forcibly interrupted as a strip of spello-tape was draped across his mouth. “Mph??” he demanded.

“You were babbling,” Ivan explained innocently with a smile too sweet to be legal.

“Mph!” Alfred spat, lunging and seizing the roll of spello-tape from Ivan’s slackened grip. He ripped a piece off and slapped it against his nose, not so hard to be painful, but enough to get it to stick.

“Hah,” he said after he had removed the bit from over his mouth. “This stuff really is magical. You look better already. He grinned, but his look of victory turned to one of suspicion; blue eyes narrowed as Ivan grabbed another roll of tape and slowly peeled some off.

With the way the two students engaged in the great tape conflict of Hogsmeade, it would have been thought this was the first Triwizard Challenge. Indeed, they loped through the village, chasing after one another, causing themselves to lose their breath as they laughed uncontrollably, lunging forward and sticking bits of spello-tape wherever they could. Alfred was granted a nice advantage at the very end as Ivan doubled over, hands on his knees, face red from laughing so hard. Alfred stuck a few strips of the tape on his back and face, the whole situation not really helping his laughter die down. They eyed each other, chuckling again at how ridiculous they looked. About half of each roll was used up from that makeshift skirmish. They helped peel the strips off, deciding to then stick them on a dungbomb to see if, when completely covered, the smell could be masked.

It couldn’t.

When the stench began permeating the air and increasing its perimeter of effect, Ivan and Alfred decided it was time to head back to Hogwarts. As they hurriedly approached the entrance of the village, smirking knowingly at each other as villagers and shoppers pinched their noses, Ivan called Alfred to a halt.

“One moment, I think I left something in one of the shops.”

“Oh, here, I’ll come-”

“Nyet, nyet, eta harasho. It is fine. I will be right back.” Without giving Alfred a chance to argue, he dashed off. About five minutes later he returned with yet another bag, this one much larger than anything Alfred remembered him having. He raised an eyebrow, which went ignored by his companion.

They walked in content silence for most of the trek back, eventually broken by Alfred’s statement of, “Hey, I’m still kind of full from the restaurant. How about you?”

“Mmm,” Ivan hummed in agreement, patting his stomach appreciatively.

“So, do you want to just head up to the tower for Patronus practice?” Alfred quite liked alliterations.

Ivan pursed his lips, violet eyes gazing into space. Alfred wished they’d be gazing at him, but he could settle with just watching from a foot away. “I suppose that would make sense,” he conceded at last.

And so they made their way to North Tower, not even bothering to drop off their purchases, choosing instead to lug them along. Setting the bags off to the side, Alfred instructed “Alright, game time! Let’s see Operation Happiness come to a happy ending!” He grinned a heroic grin, which caused Ivan to roll his eyes fondly.

He raised his wand. Happy memories, he reminded himself, focusing on today, on the future, on what could be.

“Expecto Patronum!” A thick mass of silvery vapor poured out from his wand. It curled around itself into a great mass, its white light illuminating the orange glow of dusk. Then, slowly, it began to fade. Ivan blinked, surprised but still determined. He thought even more feverishly, almost angrily, of how pleasant today was and yelled “Expecto Patronum!” The same thick mass reappeared then faded sadly. “Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!” The tower was lit by intervals of dusky orange and silvery white as each failed Patronus appeared and disappeared.

Alfred could see they were now treading dangerous waters; he did not want the mood of the day to be ruined by these failed attempts. He wanted Ivan to succeed at this!

So, it was probably that mindset that drove him to march over, mutter a silky “Here, how about this?” yank on the fur collar of the Durmstrang student’s robes, and pull him into a kiss. Alfred had closed his eyes, so he could not see Ivan’s own violet ones widen in shock, then lessen in size as he contentedly returned the kiss, their lips moving in perfect synchronization. After what felt like seconds and years all at once, they broke apart, both breathless and grinning stupidly. Still looking Alfred in the eye, Ivan pointed his wand to his right and said firmly “Expecto Patronum.”

A large pearly white bear burst from his wand and landed heavily on the tower, lumbering about as it gazed curiously around. Alfred beamed and, also maintaining a steady gaze with Ivan, cried “Expecto Patronum!” A handsome starlit eagle flew from his wand, a thin silver trail following in its wake. It flew over the bear, which sniffed at it noiselessly. The two silvery forms followed each other around the parapet in a friendly game of tag. Their creators watched them with starry eyes full of fondness, both grinning from ear to ear. Alfred was too absorbed in the scene before him to notice Ivan make his way over to their bags and pull something out. He was brought back to earth when he felt something drape across his shoulders. He stared, stunned, up at Ivan, whose violet eyes were dancing quite happily.

“Y-you didn’t…” he sputtered. “I- why?” he asked.

Ivan shrugged. “You seemed to like it,” he said, plucking at the shoulder of the sky blue robes Alfred had been eyeing back at Hogsmeade, now his. “There will be a ball as part of this tournament. You can show it off there.”

Alfred blinked slowly up at him, quite lost for words. Instead, he dragged him into another kiss. Ivan found no reason to object to this response. As they broke away, they gave their Patronuses one final gaze as they slowly faded into the twilit air.

Alfred was not sure when they decided to make their way down to the Great Hall for dinner, but he did know that he entered the hall happier than he could have if he had been chosen as Hogwarts Champion. Let all the Seekers and Fleur battle each other for some money. He had something that would last a lot longer.

“Hey, so,” he began, as he and Ivan began their dinner. “This means I need an awesome partner to match my greatness at the dance. Think you’d be able to keep up?”

Ivan’s eyes twinkled as they fell back into this familiar game of bantering. “I look forward to seeing what you consider dancing.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“MISTER JONES!”

“Wha- Professor? How did you get here?”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. Oh my gosh, that grew… Why is this 13 pages without the notes?? DX Sorry about that…uh, anyway, here’s just some notes. Once again, this was based on the fabulous artwork by cidershark on tumblr where Hogwarts!Alfred accidentally compliments Durmstrang!Ivan. Go check it out! The title is meant to be a play on RusAme’s pairing’s words Mutually Assured Devotion (like House Stark’s words “winter is coming” XD the other one of course being “Waiting for Spring). And then just changing the middle one to Attractive as a reference to the posts that started all of this XD Okay, so, it has in fact been confirmed that the wizarding school of Russia is Koldovstoretz, but for this piece I had not known, but it may still work in that only the location is referenced here; Kitezh, where Ivan says is a wizarding school in Russia, is a mythical city that is often referred to as Russian Atlantis. There’s a legend that as the Mongols drew closer to the city, the inhabitants prayed to be saved from the invaders, and so the city was flooded, and when the Mongols arrived they saw no trace of the city, only a vast body of water. Some say if you listen closely and are of a good heart, you can hear the church bells ringing and a glisten of their gold domes under the water. Alfred’s wand is oak because the national tree is oak, while Ivan’s is birch because that is the national tree of Russia. Likewise, their Patronuses are each nation’s animal symbols. I also have a headcanon that while the Slavs of the same region are siblings, Slavs of different regions are cousins, hence Poland being a cousin to Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia. And, being a transfer, I see Alfred riding the Hogwarts Express and being Sorted like all the other first years, but his education allowed him to not have to be placed in earlier years.


End file.
